The Joys of Laughter

Who would have thought laughter would bring so much joy...and so much pain...so. much. pain. I must begin by stating a disclaimer, all the events that occur in this story, though humorous, are quite dangerous and could end in death, do not try this at home.

Incident #1: Smashing my pinky in the glove compartment (only the beginning)

There I was, a passenger in my father's truck, trying to find a place to store my wallet, as I did not want to carry it around with me as I perused the stalls and stands of the OC Market. My dad's truck has this nifty compartment that opens from the bottom (like a normal glove compartment) and then within that compartment you can lift a hatch and there lies hidden another compartment. Of course, I decide to store my wallet in there, ingenious, I would say. Well I slam down the door thingy, not realizing that my left hand was still placed on the divider, and of course, my poor pinky was victim to the ruthless power of my right arm (I've been working out). I couldn't stop laughing at the fact that I had so idiotically slammed my finger and, if I remember correctly, I had been laughing prior to the accident; I think, at a joke my sister made about her AC/DC t-shirt. Something about her shirt making her want to stick her finger in a socket...she was making fun of loiterers in the parking lot, apparently the kid had the same hair cut as the guy on his shirt...

Incident #2: Laugh Attack
We went out to my dad's favorite place to eat, and on our way, my sister begins to tell a tale of a cop that parks in the same spot and the same time every day, it wasn't funny at first, but for some reason after she declared her understanding as to why a cop would park on a shaded slope (not the street) to avoid the suns rays...it somehow became comical. I laughed for 10 minutes straight. Her disgust for the sun is somewhat amusing.

Incident #3: In which I almost lost my life...
After dinner, we drove home so my mom could do whatever she needed to do before she went to the grocery store to buy me all sorts of yummies. My dad parked, my mom got out of the car, and we waited, then my dad got out of the car and opened the passenger door, where I was located of course, and he makes a comment to look at how bright the planets are. I leaned out to see, then lost my grip (I will note that I was indeed laughing as I was doing something, a normal laugh) I began to slip so I grabbed the first thing I could reach...the seat belt...it began to give way OF COURSE and so I kept slipping, and I began to yell with a muttled laugh for my sister to help me so I wouldn't fall, her description of the event include the words: eyes popping out, cartoonish bafoonery in the flesh...bla bla bla, it was comical, apparently!

She helped me sit back up and I started laughing harder, especially when she began to describe how I looked. As I laughed I bent forward to...I don't know, hide my face, hold my side, or something that involved me leaning forward...and I smashed my face against my sister's knee, more like bashed, I started laughing harder and harder and HARDER, that the yummy food we had just eaten 15 minutes prior was beginning to hurt my stomach. I HAD to stop because it was hurting SO much, so I climbed out of the car and walked towards the grass. I imagine that being drunk has that effect on people, because all I wanted to do was puke. It was the WORST.

That's basically my whole story. I have been very accident prone today (my pinky still hurts and my whole body aches from laughing and inhaling air on a full stomach) and I have had a day completely filled with uncontrollable laughter. I love being home.

I'm back...

Forget that this blog is a monologue of my travels far and wide, today I will be talking about my life in the ever-so stationary city that is Provo, Utah. I can't say that I ever dreamed of living in a place where there was snow, but being from California probably had something to do with it, but then again I had never been one for the beach (until, of course, I moved to Utah). Location mini tangent aside, I have a story of epic proportions, where to begin?

I could just start tearing into the housing situation for college students in general, but I will spare you the drama, and describe a situation (not far from death) that epitomizes how I feel about living in general. Here goes...

A couple of weeks ago our bathroom sinks (we have two) began to spit up some sort of nasty water filled with what seemed, to me at least, like charcoal. Actually, it only happened in one sink, the one that isn't mine, I was quite proud actually, my sink also is, after all, the better one, the one with actual water pressure, so obviously I tapped my faucet a congratulatory tap worthy of its faucety-ness. Cleaning checks rolled around, and we decided that the momentary lapses of to-clog or not-to-clog the sink was suffering was enough to alert our landlady.

She came in the other night with a bucket of some "miracle powder" (which seemed much like something else, if you know what I mean) that would unclog the theoretical clump of hair that was so obviously disrupting the flow of our water into our sinks. Except, PROBLEM, the sinks weren't having trouble draining, contrary, they were having way too much fun reversing what was so nonchalantly deposited in them in the first place, as was evident by the overflowing of our TWO sinks last night at ONE IN THE FREAKIN' MORNING!

Cause? Unknown. But I will tell you one thing, I hate hair in my sinks. Point is, I was laying in bed trying to decide whether or not I had to go pee ENOUGH to get up, I reluctantly rolled out of bed and went, came back in my room, and as I began to relax I heard a faint waterfall-like sound. I whispered to my roommate, who had also recently gone to bed, and asked, "Shauna, are you awake?" to which she replied with a groan, " yeah I hear it." And so began the hours of mopping up the nasty mystery water, which may I add, was also detergent-y smelling and slightly gooey...again, cause unknown. ( No we don't have a washer or dryer in our apt.) We called up our landlady once again and told her that her so called miracle white powder would probably have been of better use elsewhere.

She came as 1:30 AM rolled by, and began to work her magic. And my magic I mean, she used a vacuum...what she did with that vacuum was beyond me, I was exhausted and quite willingly dosed off with the noise of the hose sucking up who knows what out of our sinks.

I woke up this morning to find both sinks clear and clean. Success? sure, why not. I still hate living situations, especially when I don't have a plumber's phone number on speed dial. Also, I should add it was quite decent of our landlady to show up at all, but still, did I mention the water was black? Yeah... I felt death was eminent as I crouched down to mop up. If I get sick and die...you can probably guess why.

The End.